With cries and shrieks, this peculiar journey begins
Still blessing our eyes to meet only the violins
From the time of its first sight till the moment it closes
But as they quite often say, life's not a bed of roses.
Stabbed by despair, we curse our existence
Inadvertently crawling with laudable persistence
Ignoring all elixirs lying untouched in the bowl
We let ourselves slip into a big black hole.
Engulfed in the dark tunnel, the sorrows raise a tide
Hoping the light at the end will force it to subside
We march into the future for emancipation and respite
But possessing our shadow - it just burns bright.
The pathway to beatitude is not difficult to tread
Drizzles of joy would wash the ashes shed
If we open our souls and stop aiding the pain
The shire within, would show up green again.
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